Always Watching

CHAPTER TEN

The day Francine was admitted, I came home exhausted, and still confused by the memory that had surfaced that day. I needed to talk it out with someone, so I called Connie, my best friend in Nanaimo, also a psychiatrist. We met at university and have been close ever since. Even when we were both married, we tried to vacation together once a year. Sometimes we only managed to meet up at a conference, but we had fun together, spending as much of the time as possible in our hotel room, eating ourselves silly on junk food and watching bad movies.

Connie had been traveling in New Zealand for a couple of months with her husband and had just arrived back, so we caught up. We’d e-mailed while she was away, but I shared more about my move and new job. Then I explained about Heather, leaving out her personal information, but divulging that it had stirred up some memories of my time at the commune. I’d never shared that part of my life before with Connie, or that it could be the cause of my claustrophobia, so it led to another long conversation. I finished by telling her about my recent flashback of Willow. At the end, I said, “Many of my memories center around her.”

“She obviously meant a lot to you.”

“I was painfully shy then, and she was kind to me. We spent a lot of time in her greenhouse.” Another memory fluttered forward. I was in the greenhouse with Willow and she was explaining how the First Nations cured leather. I asked about her vest, if she had made it herself, and she told me it was a gift from her brother, who died in Vietnam, the only thing she had left of him.

I told Connie about the glimpse. “Strange that I just remember that now.”

“She’d confided in you about something important to her. You must’ve felt special—and probably very abandoned after she left.”

“It was confusing, I do recall that. So was that memory of being at the river with her and the horses. I don’t know why I reacted so badly.”

Her voice softened. “Do you think that Aaron may have done something to you? And that’s why you were so ashamed to talk about it?”

“I’ve been considering that possibility all afternoon, and it’s deeply upsetting to think that he might’ve molested or hurt me in some way. But I just don’t see how he could’ve. There were always so many people around.”

“Did he ever take you anywhere?”

“I don’t know. My memory is still murky about so much.” I thought back, remembered the conversation with my mother. “He apparently taught me to swim, so I suppose I would’ve been alone with him then, but I don’t recall anything about that, certainly nothing bad or him being inappropriate with me or any of the other younger girls. I was just uncomfortable around him. I do remember that.”

We were both silent for a moment. I’d stepped away from viewing this as something that might’ve happened to me and was just looking at the situation analytically. I didn’t want to react to anything until I had more information.

I said, “His center has become very successful. If he was a pedophile, I find it hard to believe there have been no other reports over the years.”

“His success could be part of the problem. Victims might be scared to speak up.”

“I don’t know, maybe…. Or maybe something happened to me during one of the lessons. Perhaps I got trapped underwater.” I told her about Coyote.

She said, “It certainly would’ve been traumatic if you’d nearly drowned after already witnessing a death and definitely could cause claustrophobia.”

“Exactly. I’ve never been comfortable near rivers since.” More memories came back now, how I always wanted to swim in a lake or the ocean, the time I’d made my boyfriend leave the old commune site. “It’s the more likely scenario. Willow might’ve witnessed my coming back from a lesson when I was upset.”

“That’s also very possible.”

We talked until Connie’s husband came home. By that time, I’d had a headache and had to take some Tylenol. Later, resting on the couch with my eyes closed and the fireplace warming the room, my mind drifted back to the memory of Willow’s leather vest. She’d loved that vest; why would she just leave it by the campfire? And why didn’t she say good-bye to anyone? She knew we would be upset. Then I thought back to the last time I saw her, talking with Robbie at the forest’s edge, when the rest of us were leaving for our walk. I narrowed my focus, tried to think of her face. How did she look? I got an image of Willow seeming annoyed, her forehead pulled in a frown and her hand gesturing, an angry motion. That’s when Robbie had left. Then I flashed to the memory of Aaron watching her as she walked down to the river, the malevolent energy in the air, the sick tugging in the pit of my stomach, my body full of dread.

I opened my eyes, stared up at the ceiling, a thought stopping my breath. Did Willow really leave the commune? What if Aaron did something to her?

I wanted to turn away from the question, at the impossibility of it, but then I began to consider the facts. He was the last person to see her, and her departure had been odd. She’d had many friends at the commune, and no reason to walk out without saying good-bye or explaining her decision. The only person she had a problem with was Aaron. There’d been lots of tension between them, especially the day before she left. He said they were okay after their talk, but what really happened that day? And why did he follow her down to the river?

I sat up abruptly, my mind filled with terrifying images: Aaron and Willow in an argument, him striking her, or hitting her with a rock, maybe even strangling her. I tried to stop my runaway thoughts. Quit it, this is ridiculous. What would he have done with the body? She would have been found by now. Then again, would she have? That mountain was remote, the river wild, there were many spots that had probably still never been seen by human eyes. Unless a hiker or someone with a dog had come across her, she could’ve remained out there for years. I wondered if her body was in the woods somewhere, rotting alone in the leaves and dirt, animals carrying her bones off into the mountain.

I thought about it until exhaustion finally took over and I fell asleep. Hours later, I woke, rain pounding on my roof, my heart racing, the scent of lavender in the air, and Willow’s husky voice in my head: Don’t let him follow me.